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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117804">Golden Thread</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades'>TheAsexualofSpades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Protective!Sides, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, can be platonic or romantic you decide, listen this shit is hard and imaginary things are complicated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:22:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualofSpades/pseuds/TheAsexualofSpades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.</p><p>Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>DLAMP, Deceit | Janus Sanders &amp; Everyone, LAMP - Relationship, dlampr</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>241</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Golden Thread</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO GO UP YESTERDAY BUT *SCREAMS*</p><p>anyway...thank you for the prompt</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"><b>Prompt: </b>since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p3">There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you <em>never </em>give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He <em>swears </em>he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much <em>fun </em>to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too <em>entertaining </em>to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the <em>fun </em>of it without a little risk of hurt?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Other times he knows to back off. He <em>adores </em>the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It <em>always </em>protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat <em>just </em>a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised <em>hope…</em>well.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread <em>fully </em>wound.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Not that he ever <em>would, </em>it’s just a thought experiment.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It’s <em>not </em>like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He <em>doesn’t </em>want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, <em>anything </em>just to hear the brilliant man <em>talk. </em>He <em>refuses </em>to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He <em>wouldn’t </em>enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and <em>not </em>because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">And he…</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Well.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The idea of being able to have an <em>honest </em>conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with <em>hatred. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He doesn’t have much of a choice.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them <em>all </em>the time, he’ll get <em>bored. </em>And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. <em>That’s </em>his real priority.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“They’re so <em>slow,</em>” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get <em>anything </em>done?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Well…they don’t. Not really.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Don’t get him <em>wrong, </em>he <em>loves </em>being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he <em>doesn’t </em>want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is <em>exhausting. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He <em>knows </em>the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can <em>ever </em>be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They’d been…talking. It <em>wasn’t </em>an overdue conversation, not in the <em>slightest, </em>and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with <em>himself. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">And isn’t that just his saving grace?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that <em>it’s not real. </em>His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.</p><p class="p3"><br/>See? It’s already working.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It doesn’t <em>keep </em>working, but you know.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The effort was there.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They’re talking again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yes?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Did you hear what I asked?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Of <em>course </em>I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…so what do you think?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Honestly.</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Oh, Patton. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Right.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">There <em>hadn’t </em>been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways <em>unnecessarily </em>difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s <em>exhausting. </em>Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually <em>does </em>anything.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You don’t know that, Virgil.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What does that have to do with anything?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You miss <em>Facebook?”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You know it does still exist, right?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Did Thomas ever even <em>have </em>Facebook?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The color palettes were nice!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You mean they were <em>blue.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yeah, that’s what I said.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…the point being I know a <em>lot </em>about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is <em>entirely </em>made-up.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shut <em>up, </em>L.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’d rather not, actually.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to <em>make </em>him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with <em>god </em>knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d <em>never </em>have noticed if he wasn’t <em>paying attention </em>and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Remus?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is <em>not. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…Janus? What about you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less <em>fun </em>than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like <em>he’s </em>the observant one.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he <em>hates </em>it.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as <em>little </em>time with the others as possible.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t know.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I will.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread takes longer to undo that night.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so <em>hard </em>for him to realize when <em>he’s </em>the one telling the lies and when the <em>thread </em>is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He started caring more about the others.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to <em>care </em>about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him <em>do </em>things, but as their own Sides. As <em>them. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He <em>cares </em>about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He <em>cares </em>about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He <em>cares </em>about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He <em>cares </em>about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He <em>cares </em>about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread groans.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus curses.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He <em>can’t. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread pauses.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It starts to run back out along his tongue.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t <em>care </em>about them.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">His tongue starts to taste sweet again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The salt of the tears goes <em>perfectly </em>with the sweetness on his tongue.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Something is wrong.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Something is horribly, <em>desperately </em>wrong and the others are panicking.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything <em>is </em>in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Virgil!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“<em>Remus!</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I <em>was </em>draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ <em>of course he was— </em>“but then everything started shaking.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We can’t find the others.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier <em>used </em>to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Nothing happens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They just keep barreling down the corridor.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Patton! Logan! Roman!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Where the fuck are you guys?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Can you hear us?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Re? Re, is that you?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Ro!”</p><p class="p3"><br/>Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus <em>can’t </em>let go of either of them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“In here!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.</p><p class="p3"><br/>“Oh my goodness, <em>Virgil!</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Pat—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Snake Face, get your butt in here.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Don’t just stand there, <em>help </em>you idiots!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">A sickening <em>crack </em>right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and <em>pull. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><em>No, </em>the thread sews, <em>I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Are <em>you </em>all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What’s going <em>on?” </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Where are we?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“<em>Remy?</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this <em>not </em>being how I wake up ever again.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I was in the middle of an experiment!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan perks up. “An experiment?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Of course.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">All eyes turn to Patton.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…Padre?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It did <em>what?”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Are you hurt?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Let me see.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus’s heart <em>sinks. </em>He’s telling the truth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">They’re stuck.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh <em>god, </em>oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be <em>so </em>bad—what’s happing to <em>Thomas?”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Virgil, <em>look </em>at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“How can you <em>promise </em>that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you <em>seen </em>what’s happening?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay <em>here, </em>with me, alright?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">And it clenches <em>more. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I <em>really </em>do just ruin everything, don’t I?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to <em>mention </em>the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Purple eyes stare at him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. <em>All </em>of you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The tremors keep settling.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Have we ever told you that we care about <em>you?</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Bingo. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, <em>no, </em>not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…yeah?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You <em>try,” </em>he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—<em>wow.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">A crack in the wall disappears.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we <em>stay, </em>then we can fix this.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“O-oh.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">That tone of voice <em>always </em>leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“And where are <em>you </em>going?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But we’re not done.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“And what do you expect <em>I </em>can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on <em>emotions, </em>nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But—“</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in <em>this </em>situation.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“So did Patton and Roman.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That was <em>obvious.”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that <em>anyone </em>knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan’s mouth drops open.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know <em>us, </em>perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re <em>Logan. </em>Stay. Be Logan.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan swallows heavily.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You won’t make <em>me </em>cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…<em>fuck </em>you, Snakey.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about <em>anything.”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes <em>bitter. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes <em>bitter. </em>It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The floor wobbles.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He can’t catch his breath.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">His eyes land on Roman.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>No. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No, no, <em>no, </em>he can’t stop <em>now. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Not here.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Not with Roman.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He can’t let Roman fall.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Not after everything.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>If I had something that would work, I’d say it. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Only if you were a Side worth worrying about. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No, no, he won’t say that. He <em>won’t. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It’s alright, Janus—“ <em>no, it isn’t— </em>“I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>At least you’re being considerate for once in your life. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has <em>never </em>tasted sweet in his entire life.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He <em>needs </em>to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all <em>have </em>to start paying attention to him. He <em>needs </em>Roman to know that he’s <em>sorry, </em>sorry he ever implied otherwise.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He has to tell Roman that Thomas <em>needs him, </em>needs him to be strong and healthy, to <em>dream. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Why won’t his tongue <em>cooperate?</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He can’t tell the truth.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He can’t.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He <em>can’t. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It <em>doesn’t </em>matter. Roman <em>won’t </em>know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus <em>hates </em>him and that’s <em>fine. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus struggles to breathe.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs <em>you </em>to love.’</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“We don’t need you,” <em>hurts </em>on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you <em>so </em>badly.’</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and <em>yank. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What the fuck is that?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Why is it cutting into him?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“How long has that been there, this whole time?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Janus—Janus can you <em>breathe?”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">What?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What is <em>what?”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across <em>something, “</em>around your neck.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">No, it’s not <em>real. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It <em>can’t </em>be real.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">…can it?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“It’s <em>not </em>a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it <em>doesn’t </em>keep me from telling the truth.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“<em>Don’t stop,</em>” he grits out, “it <em>doesn’t </em>hurt.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The sky is green.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><em>“What?</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread loosens.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Blue is made of red and orange.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Paris is in Canada.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Books are printed on alligator skin.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Water isn’t clear.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Earmuffs go on your hands.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Hamburgers are vegan.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman looks directly at him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I hate you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The thread <em>gives. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The cracks weren’t cracks, they were <em>threads. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape <em>breathes. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you <em>did </em>it, come here…”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yeah, yeah!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The next sob is slightly higher.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">N-nest?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I understand.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…<em>Logan. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and <em>warm. </em>He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Got it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, <em>warm </em>blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is <em>happening?</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “<em>breathe, </em>that horrible thing was choking you.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The horrible thread…is it…gone?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Relax, come on, shh…<em>easy,” </em>he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He’s doing what now?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he <em>was. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That’s it,” Patton whispers, “<em>easy…</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“What…what’s going on?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“That’s what you said, J.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say <em>one </em>nice thing about him.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman, whom Janus has hurt so <em>many </em>times.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman, who <em>caught </em>him, and is still <em>here. </em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I’m <em>sorry.</em>”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">He is?</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3">Oh.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “<em>rest, </em>we all need it.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“<em>Great. </em>Pop Star, budge.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Hey! Kiddo!”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Ah. Much better.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“In a <em>moment, </em>Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Ro-Bro! Get over here.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Re, pulling me over Janus is <em>not </em>going to work.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“L, are you coming?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Must you all be so impatient?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come <em>here.”</em></p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“There. Now we’re all together again.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Shut up yourself, then.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Kiddos.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Sorry, Pat.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Was what really a lie, little snake?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“…you said ‘I hate you.’”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">“Oh, <em>that.</em>” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">…sweet.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">It’s sweet.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Oh.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading! Come yell at me on tumblr</p><p>https://a-small-batch-of-dragons.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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